Schizophrenia
by hotoffthefryer
Summary: Mother would cry while she was sewing every Wednesday. She would prick her fingers and watch the blood drip down onto the white cloth fabric. I wasn't surprised when she didn't wake up one morning, sewing needle and string in hand. I expected it.SxS AU
1. Chapter 1

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_**Schizophrenia**_

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I suppose I should have expected it.

It was a rainy morning, though not quite raining yet; I could smell the change in weather coming. The clouds were gray and heavy, low to the ground. Every once in a while, a drop or two would splatter onto the pavement with a fancy splash, drops tapping the white leather of my black canvas Converse. High top, if you were to ask what type they were, All Stars. My feet would take turns alternating, right in front, right in back, left in front, left in back, right in front, and so on and so forth, sometimes my shoulder would lean a little in one direction with the added weight of my backpack. I tried to tell myself that it was not consciously that I was trying to look like I was struggling with the weight of the AP and College level course books.

Itachi side glanced at me before I turned the final corner to the bus stop. He was laughing, pointing and laughing, ridiculing me, poking my forehead until my brain rattled in my head, until my eyes crossed and burned. He was mocking me, asking me why I was still thinking about him, why I was so profusely, so _extremely agitated right now, foolish little brother_. My jaw clenched at that point until blood dared to exit, hands finding their way into bunched fists in my pockets.

I reached the red octagonal sign just as the bus pulled up, slowly lurching to a halt, old wrinkly wrinkling rubber of the tire screeching against the fresh black tar of the street. The silver on the rims was rusting brown, the detailing that would have normally read Goodyear faded to a sickly dirty off-white with etched out areas.

Everyone was looking at me looking at the tire of the bus until it stopped and the double doors opened.

Before they could finish squeaking, I was at the back of the bus away from all the lingering stares, though one remained, one that would always be there.

* * *

_Chapter One

* * *

_

Reflections stared back at me from the mirror, reflections of the painted white bricks on the opposite walls. A window was in the top right corner, high above any normal window, used primarily as a light source instead of a vantage point for viewing the nature that included maple, oak, and fir trees. The sky was emotionless, though, a bleak gray overcastted day, clouds hanging low and heavy. It was supposed to storm today, I knew, yes, but I did not believe—fall rainstorms were those of sprinkles and mists. This, the black inky colors hidden in the east of the sky, revealed a scarier natural occurrence than a few droplets.

A sink was in front of me, a bag of makeup unzipped and resting lackadaisically on the edge, it was dripping every so often, echoing in the silence. The COLD knob was turned no more than an inch inward, closer to the faucet. Dark hair was tangled in a knot and sat disgustingly centimeters from the drain, caught half way between going down and staying in the water rusted white plaster sink. A puddle with swirling soap bubbles, ignored by the last user to have washed her hands, stayed prettily on the opposite corner of the makeup bag.

I was leaning against the outermost red bathroom stall, covering up a crudely drawn heart with a phone number written in dainty letters inside of it in black Sharpie marker. The message was for a teen named Seiji, and I would not be surprised if it was the the same Seiji from the graduating class of last year, the star quarterback of the football team. Every girl had wanted him; every boy had wanted to be him. I even found myself having a short-term crush on the athlete—as long as my right mind had allowed me, that is.

I looked with dry eyes at the girl beside me, pulling her bottom eyelid down as she tried to stick a clear, transparent, and small bowl shaped object into her eye. Her mouth was open in concentration, fair blonde eyebrows inching closer to each other at her forehead. Two creases appeared there, two very familiar creases that always wrinkled when the admitted beauty was in such heavy concentration, under such stress. I was one of the few people she allowed to see herself in such a state other than bliss.

She groaned, backing away from the reflecting glass, reaching for her contact lens cleaner, preparing for another try. After a failed attempt toward getting the white plastic squeeze bottle, she moaned, mumbling, "Ah, Sakura-chan, could you…" her request trailed as I placed the small bottle in her barely open palm. Slightly taken aback, she smiled warily. "Thanks, Forehead. I don't know what I would do without you, girl."

I grinned back, although she was back in the mirror, getting the small contact in and working steadfastly on now her eyeliner. My manners did not stop me from whispering my quiet, "Thank you," looking down at my chipped and bitten nails with critical observance. I eyed the pink nail file sticking out of Ino's black leather makeup bag, almost reaching for it, but then defiantly deciding against it.

Looking out of the window that was not really made to be looked out of, I sighed. What was Ino's was never meant to be mine, in the first place.

* * *

The warning bell to the beginning of classes didn't ring until another half hour after which Ino finally got her eye makeup finished, and with an emergency trip to her locker to pick up a shade of lip-gloss that she had conveniently forgotten to put in the makeup bag, I had calculated that I was going to be late to my first period class. I was trying to persuade Ino to walk and talk a little faster by speeding up my own steps, but every so often she would grab me at my elbow and point at some new sign that wasn't up yesterday, saying, "Hm. Looks interesting, ne, Sakura-chan? We should go out for it together, you think?"

It did not help any that my locker was on the third floor and hers was on the first, or that I would have to walk to the North building and we were still in the South. I considered asking if it was going to be okay for me to just leave, if she would be okay with her if I left without her to go to my class and _not_ receive my third tardy, which would otherwise be translated into an hour detention with the teacher of the class. I have no hatred toward Kakashi-sama; I just have a preference that leans toward not spending a possible hour alone with the old eccentric pervert.

As we turned the corner toward the swinging doors the revealed a downward staircase that lead to Ino's locker, I started to clear my throat and ask her if it would be cool for me to, with lacking for better word, ditch her so I won't be late. She beat me to it, though, sliding her lip-glossed lips apart to say with an airy tone, "You know what _I_ heard, Forehead?"

I pushed my purse higher on my shoulder before proceeding to skip down the stairs. With a slight shrug, I replied, "What?"

"Guess."

She demanded blue eyes expectant and eerily cold. For a moment, I considered sneering and barking back 'no', but decided against it. There would be no gain or loss, a practical useless battle tactic. _Battle tactic_, my mind echoed for me, and then I realized what I had been doing. I was trying to get _away_ from Ino, ignoring her bantering chatter about gossip on whom and what had conspired at whose party which I had not been invited to, speeding up in attempt to get to a class that I honestly couldn't care less about being late to. Those previous tardy markings were wholly of my doing, even if I had been with Ino minutes before.

What was I doing trying to get away from my best friend?

Ino seemed to have noticed the deterrence in my step that it had even come to a complete halt, and stared at me calculatingly, clutching her clutch purse firmly. Her arms crossed, and her jaw tightened.

Sheepishly, I grinned, giggling. "Sorry; I just thought about something that happened the other day—what were you saying, Ino-chan?"

The ice in her stare melted as she waved her hand across her as if she were swatting a fly. We started back to walking through the loitering students in the hall as she blared off the latest gossip.

"So," she sighed, "besides the rumors on that Hyuuga girl meg crushing on Namikaze-sama's son dying out for the thirteenth time this month—by the way, I certainly do not see why they just don't hook up already. They would look cute together from what I can tell. But, anyways, you know about that kid that came from Sound, right?"

* * *

My brother was a very good brother when I look back on things. He taught me how to tie my shoes and ride my bike, he spent countless hours with me in the coloring books, trying but utterly failing when attempting to make me color the skies blue and the grass green, to stay in the lines. He would swing me up into the sky, above mother's tall rosebushes, so high that I could imagine myself touching the fluffy white clouds while I giggled. He would catch me then, never let me fall onto the ground, the sidewalk, or the pavement. He would fall first if ever, and I would fall on top of him.

We would play hide and seek, catch, and mess with Mom and Dad until they took us to the candy store, of which we somehow always won. He would let me win in checkers and chess. He told me the secrets of his Tic-Tac-Toe victories, how he won whether he had X or O, how it does not matter if you start in the middle square or not. When I did not know why I was crying anymore or why Dad was yelling at me for still crying in timeout (_"The sooner you stop, you little incessant child, the sooner you get out! Don't you understand?"_) He would sneak down the stairs without a creak and hand me a sucker, or a jolly rancher, a toy of which I had recently been banned from, then smile, tapping my forehead lightly.

I used to hate that.

The man to the left of me, his hand was rested lightly on my shoulder, though it was very heavy to my mind. I glanced at him sharply, warning him to remove his hand. He did, smoothly, acting as if I had not shocked him with my obvious disapprobation of contact, then grinned facing the classroom. The class was filled with normal looking students, grunge punks, fake punks, wannabe fake punks, preps, cheerleaders, jocks, rock stars, losers, nerds, video game addicts, those freaks that dyed their hair black—pitch black—to prove their more Goth than those with red—fire truck red—hair. There were the sporty girls seated near the left, closer to the window. They had soccer balls and Nike and Adidas bags in the color red resting beside their feet and on their desks. A girl with big green eyes was seated next to a brunette girl who had her hair tied in traditional Chinese buns and didn't have on fleece Northface pullover sweaters like the other girls, nor did she have any sort of sporting equipment. She was not even engaged in their conversation of 'Do you think today's game will be cancelled?' She was looking out the window, emerald green eyes tracing every slowly plopping raindrop that signified a coming storm.

The teacher had gravity defying silver hair and a humorous slate gray eye, the other covered by his mask. He looked like a creeper.

"Good morning class," He announced, breaking all the small chatter between the friends in the class. "Today we have a new student named Sasuke with us. Why don't you tell us something interesting about yourself, Sasuke?"

I flicked my eyes in his direction, nonverbally conveying that I did not and nor I would ever want any of the immature children in the class to know anything _interesting_ about myself. I barely wanted them to know my name.

A few girls were giggling from the prep section when the man smiled apathetically at me. "Everyone had to do it at the beginning of the year," his eye held a certain shimmer that told me I had no choice, "So go ahead, now. I have a lesson to teach."

I turned forward fully, stuffing my hands into my pockets.

"Something interesting about myself," I mused, keeping my eyes low. The tiles on the ground were gray with black speckles, a false looking marble. They were probably linoleum, a darker variant. My eyes flicked upward as I smirked ruefully, "I've killed a man."

Silence waved over the class like a tsunami, and Kakashi-san—as the name written in black marker on the whiteboard deemed—stopped scribbling some grades in his grade book. All the eyes were wide, fearful, and speculative. A boy in the third row of four gulped before raising his hand.

I nodded toward him, grumbling. "What?"

He scratched his blonde spiky head, grinning like a fool. "You mean in video games, right? Like Modern Warfare and stuff."

"That too,"

They laughed. 


	2. Chapter 2

I was running down a long corridor, tall hard, red mud walls with intricately crafted designs etched in the clay. My feet were echoing steps, the sweat slowly beading above my brow was loud—amplified ten times by my ears so that I could hear the small spheres sliding down the bridge of my nose, rounding over the tip only to plop onto the floor.

I would trip over pebbles strewn about, stumbling over my own feet only to push myself up from an almost fall, the tips of my fingers pushing my whole body back upwards. Suddenly the rounds of push-ups and pull-ups I was forced to do years before became important, and I found myself at a fork in the corridor.

A wall was ahead of me, a right corner revealing a dark, endless to all that my mind knew, hallway, and a left turn, showing an equally darkened passageway. The only difference was a small speck of light—was that light? Were my eyes deceiving me yet again?—, white light, small and as miniscule as a black ant in a sea of dark blue. It very well could have been there, and very well could not have been.

To remind me I hand no time to make a decision, no time that I was pretending I had, at the very least, soft footsteps echoed in my mind. My breaths hitched shortly, heart racing as a top horse in the derby, and a new, nauseating sweat broke on my palms. My throat went dry, hollow, empty—suddenly all went still.

He was not chasing me anymore.

Slowly I opened my eyes that I was not aware that I had closed, and the walls melted into nonentity. The ginger walls melted into gray, solid cement—cold, cold, cement. The shadows grew wider and taller, blacker, and I was on the ground, sprawled on the ground. I jerked my head to the left, taking in my surroundings, nothing but another slate gray wall and a single window to my right that revealed nothing, absolutely nothing was outside. There was no day or night, no sun or moon. The trees were gone. The grass was gone. It was red outside, bloody red, with a single crow resting on its feet on the ledge of the window.

Silently it cooed, the only sound of the not night, and I found myself drawn to its calls, leaning forward toward the black bird as to see it better, though I could not. Chains clanked, and intrinsically I turned to the wall behind me, rusted brown chains looped together that lead to my hands, locked at my wrists. I realized then that I was not wearing clothes, for a simple white ripped and dirtied tee shirt and tattered jeans could not be clothes. They reeked with an old stench that suggested I had been here longer than I would know.

The red eyes of the crow came to the forefront of my attention ten minutes later, after my pointless attempts from loosing myself from the chains, and my brain twitched.

I was back at home playing videogames doing homework at my desk. I was on the basketball court with a football in my pajamas. I was five helping my mother bake a batch of cookies. I was eight pounding a wall with my fists as my father stared at me with impassive eyes, waiting for me to finish. Snowballs were rolling down the hill that was in my backyard. Splashes were coming from the community pool. Giggles lit the air with personality. Cries of desperation filled the atmosphere. I was clean. I was dirty. I was tired. I was awake.

_Dear, foolish, foolish, little brother—open your eyes.

* * *

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_**Chapter Two

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**_

I was slightly intrigued by the new kid who was forced to sit next to Naruto. He was still holding his cold exterior, which in no way looked about to crack, even with the incessant loud chatter exiting his mouth, extreme gestures of his hands, bright grins and hooting of laughs. I was already amazed that he had answered his question about him killing in videogames with an honest answer. The fact that his answer was in all words borderline with the question: "Is he serious?" didn't even cross my mind.

He was attractive, too, in an odd, mysterious way. He was something you wouldn't see everyday. He looked _ethereal_, almost. His nose was sharp, small, but not too small. Almond eyes that were as dark as night were like deep pools of ink, and dark, perfectly shaped eyebrows framed the masterpieces that were his eyes. His face was crafted by the best of Kami-sama's angels, careful, soft hands created dramatic angles at his cheekbones, a sharp chin and the most gorgeous lips I have ever seen. His skin seemed to glow white like a ghost's, and even from my seat which was three away from his—separated by Kiba, Shino and Ami Watanabe—I could see the transparent blue, ghastly veins on his neck. They looked like spider webs.

Staring, I wasn't quite aware that that was what I was doing, secretly of course, just out the corner of my eye, but I was obviously not the only female that was drawn to his cold, magnetic aura. I wasn't staring—no, I was observing. It wasn't everyday that something drew my attention from the outdoors if it weren't my friend's voice or Kakashi-sama announcing the date of a test or a homework assignment being due. My head had turned on its own accord, eyes gluing onto his figure, examining the eccentric spikes of his midnight ink hair, ogling with complete awe at how _perfect _he looked. I could not help myself.

His arms were resting on their elbows, hands interlaced in a table for his chin to lie upon. The pose looked very thoughtful, at least to me; it looked like he was paying attention to Kakashi's lesson on some new way to add numbers together to find the missing variable x, though I knew that he wasn't, at least not anymore, for harshly his eyes swept across the room, immediately piercing into my own.

A surge went through me, like my desk chair was suddenly changed into an electric chair turned on without my preparation, and my back went ramrod straight, head flicking promptly away from his direction, back to the window. My heart was racing, pounding hard and unevenly in my throat, and thickly I swallowed, trying to ease it to bay. The spark sent shivers through my body, and I couldn't even bring myself to focus throughout the rest of the class, let alone _try_ to focus to distract my thoughts away form the excited bubbling of my blood.

I was licking my lips, but they weren't dry and awkwardly moving in my seat, impatient for the ringing of the bell. Class had to be over soon, it seemed like I had been in there for an eternity, learning nothing, not even bother to take notes as Kakashi summarized the lesson. I was still distracted, but not enough to not notice the soft tap of a small square of light blue dyed paper landing in the corner of my desk. It was TenTen, one of the few people I knew who actually invested in colored paper in each class for organizational purposes.

She was side glancing at me, silently nudging her head, beckoning me to unfold the paper. I did as gestured, the oil finally reaching the rusty gears in my brain—it was still morning, after all—and I began trying to decode the messy chicken scratch that was the brunette girl's handwriting. I stumbled on a few words, stupidly and openly evoking my confusion, and the sounds of Kakashi's smooth baritone disappeared. I wasn't subconsciously aware of his voice, to be honest, until it ended.

The whole class shifted, following his slightly amused but hardened gaze on me. TenTen brought a hand to her forehead, slowly smacking it downward in a standard FAIL notion. When the bell rang seconds later, I groaned, muttering, "Would you wait for me?" to TenTen. She nodded, saying that her next class was just a speedy walk away, and that she wouldn't leave as long as I wasn't in there longer than law permitted. My brows wrung together at this, but let it go, knowing that that was just TenTen trying to be funny.

Kakashi-sensei had a very strict rule about note passing during class, and being myself I was one of those students who knew the consequences of breaking that rule like the back of my hand. He, having subliminal amounts of decency, did allow us to choose our punishment out of three options.

The first was an hour detention with him and whoever else caught passing notes were that day. It was to be served afterschool the day of the catching—which only revealed that he had no life if he was able to be available an hour afterschool everyday just in case someone passed notes—or the morning after the incident of your catching. I hardly liked the books of which he read whenever we tested, named Icha Icha Paradise, and about the descriptive and erotic love life of several characters. He would often giggle, chuckle, shift secretively in his wheeled teacher chair, and blush during his reading, making the test taking even more awkward for us.

The second was to come to his house and help him with his household chores. I barely thought this was legal, something he must of done without the permission of the school board. Nevertheless, I do recall choosing this option and not having much trouble. His requests were easily accomplished, at least all that I have had to do. I once had to mow the lawn that was nearly cut, and another time I trimmed the hedges. I remember washing the windows as well, and picking up laundry from the Laundromat. One day I had to go grocery shopping. This hardly seemed like a punishment because Kakashi was never in the house, always here and there, and I had a whole day basically to myself in his home, where he had a state of the art entertainment system, brand new Apple computer, and excellent cell phone reception.

The last choice was always revealed when we reached the desk, and for a change, I was a bit nervous. Lately, the gray-haired pervert's imagination had been getting out of hand, and I didn't want to even have the image of whatever he would concoct in my mind. I stopped just ahead of him and grinned. "Hello again after the bell, Kakashi-sensei," my voice held that fake tone to it that is only used around authority figures or other adults. I was just trying to get out of trouble, to be honest.

He dog-eared a page in his Little Red Book then slowly looked up at me from his desk. The man looked amused in the blandest of situations. I gripped my books closer to my chest and smiled again, just to fill empty tension. He eventually pulled out a sheet of yellow paper from his third desk drawer, not bothering to close it back.

"I know you know the first two," He drawled, searching for a pen within his suit jacket. Retrieving a black pen, he signed the bottom line then handed the writing utensil to me. I scribbled my name messily, practicing for my doctor's signature. His eyebrows rose at this, and he chuckled, "Anyways, my third option today is still up in the air. I can't quite decide between having you babysit my niece anytime she is bestowed upon me or tutoring every Saturday for the next…eh, let's say month."

His eyes watched me speculatively. "Which would you prefer? I don't have much time today."

Glee rose in my chest and I tried to hold back my ecstatic grin full of jubilee. I had to choke back a happy chorus of giggles. After shortly going over my schedule mentally, I pursed my lips, shrugging. "I'm sure I can babysit. I've always been told I'm great with kids."

A Cheshire grin split onto Kakashi's face beneath the mask, of which really did make me wary of my choice. He hummed to himself, grabbing his book again. "That's fantastic, Sakura-chan. I'll be seeing you in class, paying attention, tomorrow then."

* * *

"Kakashi is weird for a teacher," I announced as I walked down the carpeted hall with TenTen. Popping a piece of gum into my mouth, I agreed with myself. "Definitely weird—you know he's having me babysit his _niece _in exchange for a 5-hour? I didn't even know the man had relatives. If I was his mother I would've just stopped at him; he must've been a handful."

The brunette girl softly laughed, snatching my packet of_ Five_ gum out of my palm and taking her own piece of gum before I could do anything about it. She chomped a few times before adding, "You know, Sakura, I'm finding something even weirder than that."

"What exactly, if I may ask, TenTen-darling?"

She groaned, stopping abruptly in the hall. A couple of love struck Sophomores—at least they looked like Sophomores—looked at us strange for a moment before returning to their lovely mirages of their perfect relationship. I would've scoffed at them for their stupidity, but TenTen's sudden change in attitude was heightening my own irritability in a different direction.

She seemed to notice her misstep in communication and sighed, scratching just above one of her tight Chinese-style buns. She frowned slightly. "Well, Sakura, _you're_ acting weird. I mean—you didn't even try out for the team this year and you were captain last year. You had no reason not to—"

I interrupted her harshly. "I knew I was going to be busy. I thought I already apologized about that to you."

"If a half-assed 'Sorry' for leaving the whole team on it's own at the edge of a cliff with nothing but a snapped bungee cord is a credible apology, then yes, Sakura, you did apologize."

I narrowed my eyes in her direction, tightening my hold on the strap of my purse until I was almost certain my knuckles were white. She met my hard glare evenly, and I huffed.

She took the pause in my speech full on. "And, yeah, sure you got yourself a new popular friend—"

"Ino?"

"If that's what _her_—"

"We've been friends since I was in the third grade, TenTen! What do you know anyway you _just moved here_!"

"I hear rumors, Sakura!" She yelled loudly, casting a hush on the rest of the passerby crowd trying to make it to their next class. Their eyes all wavered on us for moments on end, and TenTen continued in the new silence she allowed to grow. Quietly but tightly, she finished, "And they're not the nicest."

With that, she turned on her tennis shoe heel with a slight squeak from the wetness left from the dampness outside, and she stalked away leaving me to feel all the heavy tension left in the hallway. I looked around cautiously, scanning the crowd for familiar faces, seeing nobody I knew enough to make me worry, and then jutted my chin high in the hair, walking proudly down the length of the hallway, bathing in the silence.

* * *

A/N: Thank you _Curlia_, _ShadowedDreamsDancing_, _illneverknow_, and _AnimanicacXOX _for reviewing last chapter! 


	3. Chapter 3

He was taunting me with my toys, holding them high above my head so I could not reach them. My arms would stretch and my joints would pop as I exerted the muscles in my legs, standing at a very strong tiptoe, whining as I attempted to grasp. He laughed at me, pointing a painted finger, so I cried, cried running back into my room.

My feet toddled back and forth, and so did my body, rocking with the force of my speed. Knowing my house, even at such a young age, I turned corners and climbed stairs with my eyes nearly shut, salty liquid blurring all else that I could've possibly seen otherwise. In my mind's eye, my bedroom door was wide open, left that way from the night before, roaming the halls in childhood boredom after a restless night.

However, to my body's dislike, I slammed into the door hard, a sharp pang running through my veins as pain sequentially registered. I blinked, clearing old tears away before the new dared to exit, shock running through me. Electricity, I'm sure it had to be, surged like speeding bullets within my tissue, and the eyes I knew were open—_I knew that I had them open_—filled with black, tiny ants crawling into my vision.

I grasped my head, squeezing and shaking. Breaths grew heavier, thicker, and more desperate as the ants continued to eat out my eyes. I hated him. I hated him for doing this to me. It was every time, every time that he did this that this would happen to me, and it hurt. It stung and burned, as a fire singed the tender cells of my eyes, and I hated it. I didn't like it.

I wanted it to stop.

As usual, it did. Brushing off my pants, I rose from the ground, gripping my textbooks after a few sporadic blinks. The scene changed a few times, switching like a running movie projector with different films, and, eventually, the red lockers of the high school revealed themselves to me.

A girl was there, looking at me with concern. "Are you—?" She barely managed to squeak this before I shot her a silencing glare.

"You saw nothing," exited my lips on accord with my steps, leading me to my next class. She saw nothing, my conscious repeated to me, and nothing she will remember. Surely not. I would make sure of it.

_She saw nothing._ Yet lowly I knew she saw everything.

* * *

_Chapter Three_

_

* * *

_

My eyes trained themselves upon the golden yellow bag of potato chips Ino was eating out of, outlining each shade, tint, highlight and wrinkle on the bag. I must've read the name of the brand thousands of times before the lunch period was over with. There was nothing interesting about the bag, no; it was the hand that casually grasped the container.

Mindfully I ignored the ringing words of TenTen's vague warning, and as such, it seemed that the more I pushed the thought back in my mind, the bolder the words become the larger and more meaningful they became to me. What did the soccer player mean by her words? Was she merely trying to shake me into a bout of reality? If so, she had won, for I was on the verge of paranoia, shivers running my spine with each passing eye over my body.

Had they been the ones spreading the rumor, I thought, did they knock the spindle of lies, sending it on its downward spiral? How many people knew of this rumor? More importantly, the message printed in the forefront of my mind let itself become known: What was the rumor, and who had started it?

On their own, my green eyes found the creamy tanned hands that held the potato chip bag, traced them to arms, which lead to a face. A beautiful face, chattering away to neighbors, unknowing toward the havoc that was ensuing within her best friend's mind. It was a tornado, really, plummeting through all my deepest and darkest files, resurfacing those images I had buried long ago. It was becoming almost ridiculous, how long I was sitting in trained silence, being so ignored that I was sure that if I left the table, my absence would go unnoticed.

The notion was attractive to me, really. My lunch, the potato chips, so conveniently being eaten by someone other than myself, someone of whom I called my best friend, was gone, and the purpose of the lunch hour dissipated. My raging mind hindered me from socializing, and though my stomach growled in demand for food, my loyalty toward the happiness of my friend stopped me from saying no. The fog began to clear. Why was I still seated here, where I was far from happy, closer to the opposite?

With just that in my mind, I gathered my purse and can of Coke, planning to finish it. Each rising centimeter I made, the lighter I began to feel. This I could not connect to anything except the relieving of being stuffed with so many people at the so-called popular table. I was probably getting fresher air this way, and my personal space was no longer crowded either. That must've been it, I concluded, and drowning the rest of my soda, seeing if that could substitute the lack of actual food—fumes of pizza and hamburgers, even the faint smell of lettuce reached my nose, enticing my empty stomach—, I began to turn.

"Ah!" The sharp call ceased my movements immediately, tensing my muscles. "Sakura-chan, you know if you're going on bathroom break that we go together. It's a girl thing, you know?"

_Ino_, my mind rang, and, biting my inner cheek, I about-faced mechanically. Surprisingly, anger boiled at the sight of the smiling blonde girl, balancing her head on hand, the chip bag in the other. The table hushed when her blue eyes narrowed a minuscule. "Well?" She questioned, "Aren't you going to invite your best friend, doll?"

One by one, each table's attention diverted from their own conversations and to me. My heart pounded hard against my ribcage, seemingly knocking the bones out of place, putting discomfort to all nearby organs. My throat closed and my eyes began to tear. _Don't cry_, I pleaded. I couldn't cry when all eyes were on me. Not now, not when I was at the highest I would ever be, the highest I ever imagined myself to be. My legs shook and buckled, and I could feel my hands grow clammy. The Coke bottle began to slip from my grip, eventually falling to the ground. I watched the brown fizz spill, liquid spreading on the ground. It was a very small amount, the remainder of what I couldn't drain, but the aluminum still rang in the silence.

When my head jerked back upward, the first thing I saw was piercing black eyes, just beyond Ino's ponytail. He was staring at me, and acknowledgment keyed together in my brain. He was the new kid, and he was looking through me. It was comforting in this situation, wherein everyone was criticizing my faults as I stood awkwardly in front of Ino's scrutinizing gaze.

Soon enough, he discovered I was staring, and he chuckled lightly, turning away from me. The only sound in the room reacted like a single pebble being tossed into a lake, and ripples spread. One person began talking, then two, and soon later twenty people were talking. Before I could reach five seconds, the lunchroom had erupted in its usual madness, eyes leaving me. My heartbeat returned to normal.

"Sorry," I mumbled, squeezing back into my seat. "I, um, was going to throw away my soda but I dropped it so…" A giggle exited my lips and everyone laughed with me, either forgiving the awkward moment or forgetting it altogether. Some may have ignored the situation entirely, deeming it nothing of importance.

* * *

The school day was back to normal about a half hour after lunch was over. Ino, well, I was probably the only who noticed, was still concentrating on my misstep, and, unlike most, was not letting it go so easily. I measured it up to my being her best friend, and whatever I did reflected on her as well. That episode was something she definitely would not appreciate.

However, gossip melted her quickly, and, knowing what would send her on a tangent speedily, I fed into the silence as we roamed the halls, not necessarily caring to go to class. Though, honestly, I dreamed not to miss the beginning of my Physics class one day. It was crucial to take if I ever wanted to become a doctor, not as important as my AP Biology class, but importance is importance. I wondered vaguely wondered why it was this hour, right after lunch, that Ino demanded to skip class. Wouldn't she normally had enough chatter and not need another supplement?

I had mentioned casually, "You know, I heard Ami was hooking up with Inuzuka in the Fieldhouse. Have you?"

Her face lighted immediately, and she clapped. "Yes! My sources have told me that it happens on Wednesdays. We should check it out, ne? Like, maybe get some pictures for Facebook?"

I nodded. "I guess. Wouldn't that embarrass them, though? There's already enough circulating about the both of them."

I knew I had said the wrong thing immediately after the words left my mouth, and was reassured when Ino's smile faltered visibly. A pregnant silence filled the air, and I volleyed talking again to fill the gap, but Ino was already smacking her lips together. "So?" She shrugged, skipping ahead of me. This shocked me, seeing the girl ahead of my abruptly. I would've walked over her, knocking her down if it were not for my reflexes. "Everyone has circulating about them. That what they should want."

My mind buzzed at this.

Ino saw, and rolled her eyes, looping her arms within mine, guiding me down a hallway. "You see, Sakura," she spelled, "do you remember what happened to last year's Homecoming Queen?"

"…didn't she break her leg on the way up to get the crown or something?"

"Yes, but, you don't hear any more talk besides that about her, do you?" She questioned, and the inquisition lingered. I suppose that that is true. You hardly hear about her, only if…"Well, maybe if you count what she did with that TA, but, the point I'm trying to make is, Sakura: to stay in the circulation is to be popular, and to stay in the circulation is to have your news out in the open. So, in theory, to have your news out in the open is to be popular."

TenTen's words blared again behind my eyes, and I pieced together information. My mind spun a million miles per hour, and I fought to pay decent attention. Why was this so confusing? It was as if what I wanted to be was impossible because of what I had become. What exactly had become? A voice inside of me told me that I was doing nothing wrong ,that I was just being myself, and there was nothing wrong with that.

The emptiness in the hallway began to make my heart pound. I looked toward Ino, seeing her attentively aiding her nails. She was unaffected by the sheer chance of being caught, and so I pretended as if I weren't a raging rollercoaster right now.

I stammered, "I don't hear anything about you."

I felt like a baby being delivered into a new world then, the knowledge pouring down upon me. Ino's words made complete sense, yet they contradicted with something invisible in my mind. I was concerned for those people, those who had their stories in the air. What if they didn't want the whole school knowing what goes on in their world. I quarried this, unfortunately after I asked my question to Ino.

She giggled, gripping my arm tighter. "Sakura, you're so cute when you do that."

"Do what?" I asked, a little harshly. I became lightly fearful, though it left immediately, seeing as the blonde didn't seem to notice. "I create the rumors, so that way, there'll never be one _about _me. If there is one, I'll be the first to know, and I'll squash it."

My eyes bugged.

"Simple, ne?"

* * *

A/N: I have no excuses, but I'll say them anyway to make myself feel better. I lost my password. I fell behind in school. I've been through some stuff with family. I lost my writer's passion. I lost this plot. So. I'm very sorry. I will try to keep it from happening again.

Thank you _haliz_, _illneverknow_, _LaughsRFun_, and _AnimaniacXOX _for reviewing.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

* * *

It was a disease. That was what the doctor had told me. I was eight and the only thing heavier on my mind than the tragic flickers—he had called them hallucinations and delusions—was my mother's arms wrapped around my small shoulders. I was working a Rubik's Cube; face down, the only thing in my peripheral vision being the light purple of the hospital wall, various tubes, some with clear liquid, some with red, and Kaa-san's shaking body.

As my hands twisted the cube, I could faintly hear Mom going hysterical.

"There's no way, doctor," she had said, probably thinking that she sounded calm. When I fixed one side and realized I screwed another, I grumbled. She sounded all but relaxed, and I was reassured when her grip went tighter around me. "I took all my prenatal vitamins, I was checked numerous times. The disease doesn't even run in the family! There must be some sort of mistake."

I harrumphed. The stupid cube thinks it is going to get to me, does it? I turned it in my small palm a few times, deciding on my newest tactic. Apparently, it was futile to figure one side until it is its correct color completely. That only led to the others messing up. I popped my lips and began again.

The doctor, an old wrinkling raisin with sunburned skin and thin eyebrows and lips, sat in his spinning stool. He rubbed his chin for a few minutes before slapping his hands to his knees. It made a hollow but loud sound, and I averted my attention away from my cube and to the man. He was smiling lightly, the smile someone made in exasperation. Upon noticing that I was glancing toward him, he stopped grinning and become serious, dropping casualties and appearances.

"Mrs. Uchiha," he said slowly, "I'm going off of the tests, off what the scans show, and what your son tells me, here—"

My mother grew angry, removing her arms completely from me. I shifted in the hospital bed to make room for her; she had a habit of talking with her hands when she was angry. I watched their exchange with indifferent coal eyes. Beside me, Kaa-san was already sporadically moving her arms. "They are not _right_! Run them again! I-I—my little boy can_not_…," her voice faded away, replaced by quiet sniffles and murmurs. When the fabric of the stiff hospital cloth crinkles, I feel her arms loop limply around my neck, face buried in my shoulder. Wetness, I could feel it pooling and spreading on the back on my shirt.

Was she crying? Was she crying for me? Or because of me? What had I done wrong?

_Everything_, that absent voice answered for me. It took just about all I had not to flinch from fear. I was then not used to the rumbling deep voice, something I laugh at when now I have multiple voices, ranging from the most feminine to the darkest, most hidden voices. My heart though pounded thickly against my ribs.

The doctor sighed for a very long time. He was tired, probably tired of trying to calm my erratically behaving mother. He looked toward me, such desperation in his eyes. "Can you tell your Mom, son, what you told me? After we put you in the giant cocoon for your brain scan, please?"

My eyes grew shifty and I bit my lip. Kaa-san froze, listening for what I had to say, but keeping her face hidden, tears flowing. Could I really tell her? What would it do to her if I told her of all the things I saw, all the red and blood, falling and breaking, guns and beatings? I could see her turn into a living vegetable if I repeated the messages I heard in the darkness of the night, bidding on how long it took me until I went completely insane and did as they told. She would be so pale and lonely, so scared. It was no secret that I was her only salvation right now. Father, he didn't love her, not the way that the people loved each other on TV, and if the actors did a better job than he did at loving; even I could see the absence. My brother was by now a lost cause. She was slowly accepting that, even.

To Kaa-san, I was the only thing she had left to show how good a wife she was, how good a parent she was, how great a person she is. She was only getting so upset because if I was crazy too—the word crazy echoed in my hollow head—she would think herself as a failure. If not that, I wouldn't know.

Therefore, as the thickness of the tension rose, and the silence grew audible, I grabbed my Rubik's cube and began switching the layers, staring blankly ahead in the direction of the doctor.

"I told you that the voices told me to stab the girl in Ms. Mae's class with the scissors until she couldn't scream anymore…," my mother squeaked lightly, shaking but trying not too. The tears pinched at my eyes as the apprehension spun. "But that was a video game," I blurted, hands spinning furiously around the cube, "It was a level on this computer game and I got really mad so I guess that I just let my anger get really out of control. It was taking over my mind, I guess."

The doctor then told my mother and me to wait until he could get another room open for a scan in a voice that sounded so depressed. My mom gave me a big squeeze, told me to leave the Rubik's Cube on the desk because it wasn't mine, muttering things about how good I was at taking things that weren't mine from other kids and how I had to get worse at it, and hopped off of the bed. I asked her what she was doing when she grabbed her coat off the hook. She said we were leaving. I said that I was all hooked up, and asked how she was going to leave if I was all connected and stuff. She replied, "I went to nursing school for a few months." I nodded and let her remove the cords. It hurt, so I bit back the cry and she saw and grinned. I followed her eyes to the completed Rubik's Cube and shrugged. "No big deal," I muttered.

I must've looked sad when I was really feeling guilty and empty, because she told me it would all be okay, kissed my forehead, worked my pants back on, draped my coat and her arm around my shoulders, and we walked out of the hospital.

He said that it would be all okay as long as I kept him a secret. Being eight, I believed him.

* * *

My world was quickly spinning out of control. And, the fact that I knew it was doing so was making matters so much worse. I had ditched Ino again, after her declaring that the rumors were nothing but a way to climb on up the ladder of high school popularity. I had to leave, you know, it was too ridiculous—the feeling I was experiencing being near the person who was knowingly destroying reputations.

It was made worse when the factor that I supposedly had rumors about myself milling around surfaced. Ino probably made those. I smiled ruefully. What a friend, what a _best_ friend she is, helping me get even more popular.

I spun my pencil in my fingers, looking at the Physics test ahead of me with confusion. I had no idea what any of this was. I knew the teacher knew I had no idea what I was doing. It may've just been slight paranoia making me believe that she was watching me with entertainment in her eyes. Let's see how many of these questions she can answer correctly, she would say, laughing to herself. Let's see if she, this girl that had the GPA of a genius, who had the criteria of a person who would excel in this class, the girl who had such an amazing letter of recommendation for my course, can pass this exam when she was only present for three class periods.

Green eyes started to flood with my tears. I was so confused; what was I letting myself do? What did I dig myself into, what type of hole was I making? Becoming friends, no, reuniting my friendship with Ino had seemed like it was the right thing to do—really it did. Three months ago seems so distant, I realized, glancing out the window. It was pouring now, rain pounding against the roof, slapping on the glass. Lightning cracked, thunder boomed, and the black, black gray clouds loomed. It was impossible to tell when the rain would stop.

This past summer, though, it was always warm, and just the notion of rain was idiotic to think of. At home, I was bored as usual, mindfully avoiding my sister's room because it was Thursday, and that was when my sister had a boy in the room. I had no reason to bypass my parents' bedroom. My father was at the hospital in some far off city, having been called in. Coldness exited the forever-closed door where my mother's once warm spirit existed. Now, a witch of a stepmother loomed. However, today, since it was Thursday, she was at the mall.

Somewhere deep down within me, I found it hard to believe the woman who was young enough to be my youngest aunt or oldest sister was truly at the mall. Why would she ever be so madly in love with my father when he was never present, and, if he was, she wasn't. I just didn't believe it, really. I couldn't bear to make myself believe that they were truly in love, either.

Judging by the silence I heard when passing Momoko's room, she was either making out with her boy toy's lips, or some other part of his anatomy. I hesitated at her door, daring to knock and tell her that I was going over to a friend's place, but decided against it. She was probably busy, and if not, she would care less. Therefore, I continued down the hall, stepping down each stair quietly. It was near eleven, and the stars twinkled beautifully through the dining room window.

A perfect summer night, in complete honestly.

Ino lived within my subdivision and there was no way I could ever forget the beautiful abode. It was large, just on the borderline between mansion and home, with light brick and a sparkling chandelier on display from the grand window. It shone with cleanliness above tall palace like doors. Her garden was gorgeous always, too. Flowers that weren't supposed to grow in climates such as ours thrived, lilies and sunflowers blossomed. A pond was next to an apple tree, where a swing swung upon its hugest branch. I remembered swinging on that exact tree, and, as I neared the house, seeing that plank of wood being pushed by the soft wind urged me to continue.

I climbed the blonde girl's steps, looking scarily at the garden gnomes and other yard ornaments whose faces turned from friendly to eerie with the moonlight. When finally I reached her door, a magnificent fountain drowned out my buzzing thoughts. I couldn't necessarily place a finger on what I was feeling back then, even now. I knew I wasn't scared, because past Ino's intimidating appearance, she was truly a nice person—or so I had thought. Moreover, I was far from nervous. There was nothing to be nervous about. The beauty had invited me to her home.

Perhaps, it was anxiety, a combination of the two. My mind told me that the girl, of whom I haven't talked to in years, at least not more than a passing hello, had wanted to meet with me, at such a late hour. Nevertheless, I had rapped on her door three times after trying the doorbell and seeing that it was broken. Within seconds, a vaguely familiar face filled my vision. I bit my lip, waving with all five of my fingers. "Um, Ino invited me…,"

Her face lit up. "Oh, I remember you. Come on in."

It was like walking into her front door had opened dozens of others, really.

* * *

"Hey, Sasuke," he was talking to me again. The idiot, the blonde one with the blue eyes and that voice that had a whisper that sounded like a normal tone. I had no idea how he—how I—ended up in every class with him. I damned my last name to hell everyday, because that had me sitting next to him in every class, everyday.

I twitched my finger, gripping my pen tightly. We were taking a fucking test and he was trying to _talk_ to me? What type of sense does that make? My head began to ache, right between my eyes, and I let out a tight sigh. If somehow he made it into the classes, then somehow he can manage a C on a test. He should know that I am the absolute _last _person to ask for help. I will not help him cheat on—

Naruto's heavy hand pounded against my shoulder. "Pssst, Teme! Can I see your calculator?"

My pity went straight to the boy's parents. He's very stupid if he forgets a calculator on the day of a Chemistry test. There's freaking math in Chemistry—did he not know that? Was his brain off like it normally is when we were performing conversions and configurations? Becoming tired of his pestering, I unzipped my backpack and tossed him my calculator.

I grumbled lowly, "Give it back, dobe."

He smiled his thanks and returned to the test, and no further problems occurred afterward. I could only be so thankful. His voice had a way of aggravating me to a point of which I had no control. I rather liked control.

* * *

A/N: Thanks to _LaughsRFun_, _AnimaniacXOX_, and _.Sky _for reviewing last chapter! I just wanted to dip into Sasuke a little bit, since Sakura had had the spotlight lately. The romance—or at least interaction—between Sasuke and Sakura will start soon. Maybe even next chapter. I can't tell you, to be honest. More will be revealed, too. I want to end this arc kind of sort of soon…so yeah. Will do. : )

_Review!_

~hotoffthefryer


	5. Chapter 5

In the third grade, the teacher forced upon us an arbitrary assignment. We were to right a persuasive essay that explained why your role model was the best role model, and why the reader's favorite person essential sucked. I was caught at a crossroads because, even though I was at the age wherein half of the boys were announcing the blue ranger their favorite person ever, and the other half declaring the red ranger the best, I had no idea whom I was to deemed my 'role model'.

I supposed I didn't look up to anyone, or, at least, anyone I would admittedly admire. My mother was the first thought that floated into my mind. She was kind, understanding, and loving toward me. She listened and cared. If she didn't care, well, she did a very good job pretending that she did. The problem with writing a paper on how much I loved my mother was the high chance that I would have to read the essay in front of the class.

It was no secret that I was one of the few in the colorfully decorated classroom who had a brain and intended to use it to its fullest capability in areas besides Arts and Crafts. The teacher had a fondness toward me as well, always giving me extra stickers and sneaking a second chocolate chip cookie when it came to snack time. I always ended up giving it away to whatever desperate girl who decided to sit next to me that day, in attempt to shut up her mouth.

The paper before me grew increasingly intimidating, as the blue lines remained bare. I supposed that I would have to be predictable, using my father as my role model. I was sure that was what Itachi wrote about, anyhow. There was no failing school, I learned quickly, as long as I did as he did. However annoying it was, I knew that it was true.

Therefore, I began writing about how my father is the absolute best man in the world when in reality he could have blood of the devil brewing and bubbling within him.

* * *

_Chapter Five_

_

* * *

_

As soon as the bell rang, I jumped out of my seat and stormed out of the class. I barely remember handing in my test, too preoccupied by thoughts and memories of the past. Usually, I would be happy to be distracted from an assessment, but that was only because I normally would be finished with the exam millenniums before the other students were. Today, though, just like everything else, was different.

The hallways, full and bustling, did alleviate the coming headache. I don't even remember the last time I was confused, so contradicted, and so…wary of my decisions. Honestly, I don't think I've ever been. My feet lead me to my next class—it was some class that I took for the snooze opportunities—by instinct, and if the door wasn't wide open as it usually was, I could've ran into the solid wood. I felt like a zombie, left in the physical body while the mind was all but gone.

I almost laughed to myself as I neared my seat, conveniently placed in the furthest row. It was hilarious, really. Why was I comparing myself to a zombie when I had all the opportunities that child dream of once they come into high school? I could be Homecoming Queen, Prom Queen; I could become the cheerleading captain. I could be an object of desire, and an object of destruction. What was funniest was that now that the things that formed dreams were in my reach, I didn't want them. I was unhappy.

_Why_, I asked myself, looking around the square classroom for windows, only to see white brick walls, musical posters covering them. _Why am I so unhappy? _

"Because that's what Ino is," a hushed whisper near me seemingly answered, and immediately my head snapped in the sound's direction. My ears tuned into the nasal voice, picking it out from the other babble in the room. She—since I was sure it was a girl judging by the voice and the purely gossipy tone it held—had fiery red hair, and I could only guess that she looked like a wannabe. Her back was turned to my face, so I couldn't see exactly what she looked like, nor could I see whom she was talking to, because some fat kid was hunched over eating potato chips in just the right position to cover her confidant up.

I grumbled to myself and faced forward, pretending to be attentive to the lesson when I was really listening to the conversation between the redhead and her friend, of whom was laughing, no, snickering.

She gasped then sighed. "Don't be so mean, I think her friend is quite nice," I quirked my eyebrow at this. Ino has a lot of friends but hardly any of them would I consider 'quite nice'. Who could the airy voice—that really did seem familiar…in a way that I couldn't place particularly—be talking of?

"She's _so_ fake. I mean, seriously, I don't know anyone with…," by now, I was leaning in closer to the voices, trying to hear. Aggravated by the long pause, I began tapping my fingernails on my desk.

Whom were they talking of? It was honestly bothering me. The tone and volume of the conversation—it intrigued me so very much. Maybe it's because Ino's name was mentioned. I don't know. The only thing that I knew was that I needed to know this gossip. My blood was running fast in anticipation of even a hint toward whom they were talking about. It ran cold when the redhead hushed. I almost groaned. Perhaps if that big kid moved I could see who the people were, then narrow my choices further based upon whom I knew they hung out with.

I decided to be patient and wait. I had another hour of this class, anyway, and since I'm too exhilarated now to sleep, I may as well see what Music Theory has to offer. I looked toward the board and immediately faced a gag reflex. What was this? A one-hundred and fifty-point project is due tomorrow. What was it even on? The consequences of skipping class were just pounding upon me.

My hand shot up into the sky, a question on the tip of my tongue. The teacher averted her attention toward me just as a hush flooded the classroom. All eyes were on me, and it was just then that I took the time to see my classmates. Most of them were those people, you know, those who just thrive on talking about us. Some were snickering, covering mouths, while others were just waiting to see what I had to say. Just then, the nasal voice I had attuned myself to hear rose from the silence, giggling.

"OMG, Ami, I wonder what Forehead-girl has to say, now."

Instead of asking my question about what the project pertained to, I asked to go to the bathroom and skittered out of the room, closing the door quietly behind me. Even still, I could hear the thunderous laughter coming from the room.

* * *

My blood was pounding in my ears. The phrase how embarrassing played on repeat within my mind, and, while the tears begged to flow from my eyes, I managed to contain them until I reached the 'abandoned bathroom'. No one went to it every since that one girl who graduated like two years ago started this thing with all her punk friends. They released their bowels—yeah, I know—every Tuesday in here, and anyone who had some sort of social life knew about it. Therefore, I was safe to crash into one of the stalls and bawl my eyes out for a few hours.

They were talking about me; they had to be and I knew it. What made the moment cry-worthy, excluding the fact that the whole Music class was that the class was laughing at me, was that Ami was a part of the whole shenanigan. I don't care for who she was talking to at the moment, honestly, that was at the back of my mind. I was stuck on the fact that Ami, someone who was supposed to be my friend, was talking about me.

_She wasn't_, something reminded me. How true, I echoed. She actually stood up for me, in a way of sorts, saying that I was nice, which was nice of her to say. It was mean, down right wrong, for her to be entertaining the gossip. Why be a part of something tearing your friend down? Why not shut down the conversation? I would never associate myself with gossip about her—

Then I froze. I was, today, telling Ino about how she and Kiba hooked up in the Field house, something she confidently confided in me. I was really a bad friend then. With that, a new cycle began, spiraling down to the root. I wasn't always so backstabbing. When was the seed first watered, fed its destructive fertilizer?

My phone buzzed within my purse and I reached into it, sniveling and wiping tears with the back of my palm. I pushed up the screen and a new message insignia lighted, doing a little animation. My eyes burned and my throat tasted as salty as the Red Sea, but I swallowed thickly, pushing the open button.

I almost rolled my eyes, but the slight shock of the bell ringing shocked me enough to jump, forgetting about the obvious show of annoyance. It was Ino, asking to go to the mall. Noting that many of the issues that I'd been facing lately rebounded to the blonde, I pushed cancel on my reply, half way between the word Sure, and pushed the device in my back pocket.

If anyone would dare enter the Abandoned Bathroom, they would find a free purse.

It was when I was three steps out the door that I remembered that my wallet, my camera, my iPod, books, notebooks, pens, pencils, gum and other pointless things were still in the bag and decided that I would dump it and drop it off at the Lost and Found later. There was no need to be so drastic, anyway, was there?

* * *

I don't know why my feet led me to the South Gym, or why I was pressing myself against the small window, watching the girls practice and play around, enjoying themselves after a canceled game.

I was almost smiling, remembering that I was the one who started that last year. I remembered that everyone used to pile into the bus or their cars, sad faces on, depressed slumps in their shoulders. I pulled them all into the gym…I don't know, maybe one day in November. We played twister with pieces of cut up construction paper I 'borrowed' from the art rooms and tackled truth and dare. We played scrimmage games against ourselves, going for hours until the nighttime janitorial staff would have to get us out. I distinctly remember one night when we just all crashed around eleven thirty and slept on the gymnastics pads until Saturday morning.

It must've been because I was crying before that a sad, single tear rolled down my cheek and plopped down to the ground with a splash. They were playing a scrimmage game when pride filled in my chest. Everyone was getting _so_ good. Temari was practically blazing past the defense, kicking the soccer ball around the legs of what looked like Ume. She reached the ball again, running around her before she noticed that the black and white sphere was no longer dribbling between her feet. Last year, Temari would've tripped, fell, busted her knee on the turf, then blamed the turf for being a bitch.

I grinned, continuing to watch the game, figuring out who was playing which position, and that they had paired up with whomever they thought was their toughest competitor on the team. Temari with her swift moves was against Ume, who was like the defenseman sent from the soccer gods. Hinata—oh, how happy I am to see she picked up the sport again!—was paired with who must've been a new girl, though I've seen her around. I placed the name Rei on the girl and started to focus on what she had to offer to my team.

My throat caught, recalling the fact that I wasn't even a part of the team, nor was I the captain. I wondered dully who the new captain but dismissed it, seeing that the game was nearing an end. Based upon the high-pitched screams and jumps, giant group hugs and full-blown showing off, TenTen's team won. She smiled widely, strutting a few steps before taking a deep bow. I laughed at this, but my smile left on accord with hers when her eyes connected with mine as she rose from the curtsy. It took no time for the rest of the team to notice my spying.

Before I knew it, TenTen was at the other side of the door, staring at me evenly with her olive arms crossed. Sweat dotted her forehead, and her eyes were there usual chocolate-brown, however hard and darkened with bottled anger. I fought a sigh of aggravation and ran a hand through my pink hair, pursing my lip as the salty feeling formed in the back of my throat again. I looked up at the fluorescent lighting, avoiding her stern gaze, obviously demanding an explanation.

"Um," I mumbled, sure my eyes were glassy. "I'm sorry…TenTen. I'm really sorry for whatever you're mad at me about plus being a suck-ish friend lately and abandoning the team and—you know. I'm babbling," I laughed, tears pooling, "would you help me out here? I'm bad at the apologizing thing."

TenTen nodded, a smile working its way onto her face. "I know, and I forgive you. I was just freaking out." She grabbed the handle of the door, and then stopped halfway, deciding on something while I stood awkwardly, waving a little. It seemed that was the key toward starting her up again, seeing as she nodded her head toward the gym. "You want to hang out with us?"

On its own, an ear-to-ear spit smile exploded on my face, and I felt a huge weight lifting from me for some reason. I nodded my head more than those ridiculous bobble heads shake on the washing machine. "Sure. Sure! Um, thanks—I have to go and get my stuff but—"

"You kept them?" She interrupted, brown eyebrows rising.

My face crunched, slightly confused, "Of course, I did."

* * *

A/N: Ugh…I planned to make this longer but if I would've added the last part this chapter would've been ridiculously long. Either way…I guess this kind of sort of closes the first arc. YAY! :D

Thanks to _daisherz365_, _AnimaniacXOX_, and _LaughsRFun_ for reviewing last chapter! Special thanks to _SasuSaku Forever and Ever_ for adding, favorting, and reviewing this story all in one go!

_Review!_

~hotoffthefryer 


	6. Chapter 6

For some reason, I was absolutely elated to run all the way back to the northern building to my third floor locker. I retrieved my dust collecting athletic bag which held my own pink, silver and white soccer ball,—courtesy of Adidas—shin guards, tape, my spikes, regular running shoes painted with mud and permanent grass stains, and, finally at least a dozen empty plastic water bottles, all surrounding my water jug, of which I thought I had lost.

I sifted through all of these objects on the ground, dusting my own little square of carpet off before I sat. My shin guards displayed scars and bends, grass stains and mud strikes, just how I left them. The tape roll was more than half used. A handful of headbands, wristbands, and ankle braces loitered around me. My captain armband, decorated in stickers and marker, fluorescent colors forming notes and smiley faces.

Knee braces in pink, blue, purple, the red and white ones that came with the old uniforms, the black knee braces I demanded we make note to save and fundraise for, so we didn't look bummy in sweat, dirt, and grime dirty white kneepads when it came to the semifinals in tournaments. Black just made everything appear sleeker.

I inhaled contently. Just the serenity running through me felt off, like the calm before a storm, which was very ironic. It had rained, correction, stormed, today. I was embarrassed more times than I could ever count on my own, in a day, in a week even. I cried a river just to release unanswered questions that would probably always remain that way, only to form a whole ocean when my own conscious supplied an answer. Sitting around, encircled by all I had abandoned ruthlessly, I felt at ease. I decided to make the harmony last as long as possible, a single resonating note of tranquility ringing a halo around me. I felt genuinely good, peaceful, and…simple.

That was until a loud, single-noted desperate scream rolled, shortly before a loudly slamming door.

* * *

_Chapter Six

* * *

_

"Oi, Sasuke!"

My fingers twirled the black dial on my locker, N376, eyes narrowed slightly in agitation. I looked up again to make sure I was at the cubicle I thought I was at, seeing the correct combination of numbers, and then sighed tightly. I was at the right locker, which only meant two things. The first being, my locker hated me and just didn't want to open without a fight. The second was that I could've been inserting the combination incorrectly.

I dropped my books with a thump and dug in my pockets, searching for the piece of paper that the secretary handed me this morning. I found the crumpled, folded, and ripped paper and unfolded it, checking the numbers. I groaned. This is such a stupid school; why would they give a combination with so many zeroes, and then write it out in such a way that—

A blur of yellow blurred into my vision, and I tensed, first habitually and then out of annoyance. My hands dropped completely from the dial as I turned robotically toward Naruto. I crossed my arms, glaring. "I'm not gay," I spelled out, "and if—_if_—I was, you would be the absolute last."

The blond idiot's face deflated like a balloon loosing air at a rapid rate, and he grimaced. "I'm not gay!" He yelled, sputtering on the final word. His face was red with embarrassment at my idea, slightly bushy blond brows knotting together in distress. I smirked at this, giving my locker another tug. Naruto muttered a few unintelligent words and leaned against the rows of lockers, blue eyes observant.

"That locker doesn't work," he said after a few minutes. "They cemented it closed after this crazy person from, like, four years ago did some crazy shit to it."

_Well, doesn't that explain everything_, I thought dolefully, stuffing my books back into my backpack and turning away from Naruto, walking with wide strides. I hate this place. There are too many reminders, too many familiar things and people and pictures and—everything seems to set me off now. I had had three breakdowns already, and it was only Monday, not even the whole day. I pinched the bridge of my nose, breathing with my eyes closed. All I had to do was make it home.

Naruto, supposedly jogging to catch up with me, slammed his hand on my shoulder, pulling me back.

My resolve cracked. "What the hell do you want?"

"Dude," he looked both determined and slightly worried, rightfully so. "Calm down; I don't even know you but…"

If this was an old-time movie, dozens of tumbleweeds would roll by, followed by a gusty blow of sand, moving across both of us. My hand would be grasping my gun, fingers twitching on the trigger, waiting on his words. If I didn't like them, it would be a bullet meeting his skull instead of my fist.

The pause grew pregnant, about to go into labor. Naruto removed his hand from my shoulder shrugging. "Everyone is just nice to me either because I'm the principal's son or they want to try their luck trying to get into my mom's pants," he laughed dryly. I stared at him, deciphering the importance of his words. "Uh, but, yeah, anyway…I think that we have a lot in common—"

"I'm not gay," I said again, a small smile rising.

He laughed. "I got to get to practice, but I'll see you around. If you want to get a new locker—do you have a map of the school?"

I shook my head, saying that I had thrown it away.

"Well, you can just ask my mom. She's in the Home-Ec hall; you'll know when you see her room when you hear the music."

My eyebrow quirked at music in the home economics hallway, but before I could further question what Naruto was talking about, he was already gone, the doors heading to the stairs swinging violently. I threw my backpack onto my shoulder, following the advice of someone who was actually trying to be my friend.

* * *

There were sewing machines in her room. Pins. Needles. They were all running and fast, going up and down, stitches forcing the cloth together. The fabric was defenseless against the hands that connected them. The hands, so soft and comforting. A rocking chair. A hot fire. Crackling. Orange, red, yellow, blue, wood burning, cracking, sizzling into ashes. _Creak_, my mother would swing forward, _creak_, she would rock backward. Blood red drops on our white carpet that could never be washed out. Swords, knives, guns, bullets, blood covering hands. And all because there were sewing machines in her room.

My head filled with nausea, and I stumbled back into the wall behind me, knocking the decorations on the wall. Some fell and a vaguely heard glass clashing with linoleum, breaking into billions of pieces. I must've been shaking, because when I tried to grasp my skull, massage my pulsating brain. I couldn't tell if my eyes were open or not, just a swirl of colors before my eyes, like an artist mixing their palette. I could fell my chest collapsing on my lungs, could see the soft muscle being constricting. My throat was tightening, my ears buzzed with quiet loudness, and now I knew I was convulsing. I could see myself without control of my own body, and Itachi was back.

"Honey!" a panicked scream and increasingly painful smacks on my cheek. I vaguely registered the tingling sensation, but I felt the cold, icy water splash against my face. I took a big, staggered, desperate breath, ribs releasing their hold on my lungs. Slowly the separated visions merged, one photo instead of three. A redheaded woman was grasping my arm roughly, teal blue eyes maternally concerned. In her other hand, a newly emptied water bottle existed.

My eyes scanned the room, decidedly avoiding the sewing machines and other utensils but seeing the scared frozen faces of students. A tinge of embarrassment flashed through me, but before I could acknowledge it, the woman's hand tapped my chin, forcing me to face her.

She released a breath I didn't know she was holding. "Are you okay?" She said slowly. I really looked at her and determined that the teacher was Naruto's mother. They didn't look very much alike, away from the determination of character in both of their auras. Otherwise, they just had the same nose.

I swallowed thickly, feeling each pair of eyes surveying me, trying to decide what to make of my scene. "Do you have a towel?" I said lowly, shaking her hand off me.

The woman shook her head, "No, but, I don't think you're okay. I want you to go to the nurse—"

"I'm fine," I said tightly.

She smiled, "Look, if I student walks in, takes one look at sewing equipment, freezes, has just short of a seizure while screaming, grasps their head for dear life, shakes as if it's the middle of the winter in Alaska, and knocks down my radio from its pretty little perch as well as a picture frame my little boy made for me," the smile fell, "then there's a problem, and that student is not quote unquote fine."

I dared to release a small grumble, past enraged, but the sound of a few trickling trills covered my own guttural outburst. The redhead sent a harsh stare in the general direction of the girls, then turned to me, placing a slip in my palm, then closing it. "Go to the nurse, tell her that Mrs. Uzumaki sent you. If she's not there, I want you to come back here and tell me that you're going home."

Then the woman forced me out the door, slamming it behind me. I glanced around, seeing pale green eyes looking up at me, a petite body grasping an athletic bag awkwardly.

* * *

"I didn't hear anything," I sputtered for some reason. I felt like an idiot shortly afterwards. What if that wasn't him who had been knocking all that stuff down in Kushina-san's room? Then, alternatively, what if it was? My little words were laced with guilt, down to the way I said them with speed and jittering eyes. I held my bag for support, knees starting to wobble from the intense stare the new kid was giving me. It amused me how earlier the same look calmed me, and how now I was scared enough to run and call my dad for some reassuring words.

He was an intimidating beautiful up close, too. A pink blush spread across my cheeks when he took a step closer, an array of things happened. I wondered how badly I had to look, if my mascara was running, making ghostly gray streaks on my face. I wondered if my hair was pretty. I wondered if I looked like a scarred child, not a confident woman. Were those butterflies erupting in my stomach? Were my legs turning into jelly because I was nervous being so close to him, not because I was nervous I would be caught in a lie?

My lips parted to speak, but he beat me to it, backing up again. I was relieved of this slightly, able to breathe my own air. "You're lying," he said simply.

I stammered, "No, I'm not. I'm deaf."

_And you're also an idiot_.

He stared, light humor underlying both upset and confusion. It seemed he was going to say something else, but the loud buzzing of a phone interrupted whatever was next. I reached into my purse, and he did the same, pushing a button and nodding a goodbye to me simultaneously. I waved lightly, checking my own cell phone. I grumbled, but clicked the little green telephone nonetheless.

"What do you want, Momoko?"

* * *

I leaned against the windows lining the main entrance, looking out for the limo that would pick me up and take me home. Pressed to my ear was my cell phone, mother happily chattering away, thinking I was listening, knowing I wasn't, but not caring either way.

My mind was centered on how hectic my day was, and how centered I became when a blush spread across the girl's face. As the color painted her cheeks, my problems slowly dissipated and nothing mattered. It was very…cute. I lingered on that word momentarily, being drawn into my conversation, and away from the girl.

"What do you want for dinner, anyway, Sasu-chan?"

Flinching lightly at the nickname, I shrugged. "I don't care."

I couldn't help but feel that she was dodging a topic, and, precariously using the silence allotted, I asked, "Is something bothering you, Kaa-san?"

She laughed, tightly. Something was definitely hanging in the air, looming like storm clouds. "I was going to ask you the same question, dear."

Mother always does this. She makes it obvious that something is the matter, and then she minimizes whatever is making her anxious. It makes the act of clearing the air so much more difficult, and I clenched my jaw. Even the fact that she knew something—many things—had happened to me today was irking me. I sighed, compromising, "I'll tell you what if you tell me."

"Um," she considered, "only if you go first."

My heart pounded as I looked around for any evasive eavesdroppers. Seeing none within regular hearing range, I mumbled. "Well…"

_Think of a lie, genius._

I swallowed, "I'm going to be pretty popular here."

_That's terrible._

Almost biting out the word, 'Shut up', I hushed my internal voices instead of shocking my mother worried. She still didn't know. I sometimes knew that she thought something was off, sometimes, like when I would go into strange relapses during dinner, locked positions while watching TV. I tried to keep the worst of what would happen under control when around Mother. For the sake of her sanity.

She chirped. "Oh, really! What makes you say that?"

"The girls really like me," I said truthfully, which made me feel better.

"And what about you," she sang, "any girls?"

Any amusement toward the conversation fell flat and a sighed a tight, "No. Now what's wrong with you; I can tell you were trying to distract me."

I could hear he exhale, almost see the woman close her coal eyes, calming herself. I became more nervous—maybe this was bigger news than I thought. The clock nearby ticked on the wall, and eventually, the woman clicked her tongue against her teeth.

"It's Itachi," she said, "He's coming home."

Before I could stop myself, I had dropped my phone, clutched my fist, and sent it hurling against the glass window.

* * *

My throat allowed a sharp squeal of shock, and I slapped my hand over my mouth. Green eyes widened, my body ran on adrenaline as I sneaked back into the hiding places, pressing my other to my heart.

What was wrong with that guy?

* * *

_A/N: _Thanks for reviewing _daisherz365_, _illneverknow_, _AnimaniacXOX_, and _LaughsRFun!_

Review!

~hotoffthefryer 


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